My Dinner with Nadine
Mmph.
7:02 a.m., Thursday, July 12. Have to be at the wildlife center in 58 minutes. Barely awake, too warm already. Another scorcher. Too hot to snooze any more. Trying something new. Early-morning blogging.
I had dinner with Nadine last night, at Stella’s on Commercial Drive. There was a free concert, four or five bands, in Grandview Park right next to the restaurant, and we sat at the open window, sampling tapas, guzzling water, people-watching, and melting in our seats.
And talking. We talked about everything, and at some point the subject of our blogs came up. After a few moments of polite technical talk, we both admitted we were struggling with our blogs. We didn’t know quite who we were writing for, or even why we were writing. We’d had ideas, originally, but things seemed to have changed, and we were, well, just a bit lost. Frankly, it was a relief to admit it, and an even bigger relief to hear someone else admit it, too.
Then she told me about the journals. An artist’s journals, a set of books she represents (she’s working as a sales rep for a literary press right now). Short, unemotional entries providing the details of her day-to-day process. “Today, I bought a 5 x 5 canvas and stretched it over a frame, then painted it blue.”
I could see the canvas … and the possibilities.
I hope one day in the not too distant future, you (whoever you are) will write and tell me you want to know more about this, or would like to know what I think of that. Meanwhile, I’m going to start each day (can I do it?) with a record of what I’m doing and a plan for the day. It feels manageable, and interesting - to me, at least. You? Let me know.
It’s 7:19 and I’m supposed to be at the wildlife center in 41 minutes. Dress, breakfast, saddle up, bike down. It’ll be a million degrees in the center today. Better take water.
This afternoon my plan is to organize all the pieces I’m bringing with me to the Canadian Book Camp at the VPL tomorrow. I’ve got a full costume, my presentation in a fairy tale folder I made myself, large sheets of foolscap for our three-minute biographies (written with the non-dominant hand!), candles and matches, river rocks for the touchstone ceremony. Must remember to call Gordon - he blew me away with an offer to drum live for the workshop. It’s going to be an afternoon to remember.
At 4:30 I have to be at 8 Rinks for my first physio appointment. Achilles tendonitis, right leg. Mild. I’m hoping with ultrasound and the right exercises I can get back to running soon. And dancing.
Then tonight I’ll rehearse tomorrow’s presentation, make sure I have everything I need, make a list for tomorrow.
Did I mention writing? No. I’m not writing much these days, other than making notes and sketching out presentations, creating curricula for the books, creating worksheets and handouts and give-aways.
I wonder if I’ll ever get to the point where I’m writing - really writing, working on a book, I mean - every day. There are writers who do. Do I want to be one of them? Is it a matter of discipline? Timing in one’s career? Personality? These are the things I’m interested in. I’ve always been fascinated to know the myriad ways various writers actually spend their days. You read their “self-help” books, how to write, how to create, blah blah blah. And I think yes, but what do you do first thing in the morning? How do you get out of bed and out from under the weight of all the ideas pressing down on you first thing in the morning? THEN what do you do? Do you write first thing? Do you stop to exercise? Does someone else make your meals? How many pages do you write in a day? Or words? Or do you try to finish a chapter? Or a narrative chunk? What about the rest of life - bills, doctor’s appointments, groceries? Really, truly, how do you spend your day?
It’s 7:27. I’m going to be late. Up, dress, smoothie, cereal, pack my panniers (bring water!), and I’m off.
Talk with you tomorrow. I’ll let you know how today goes.